Nothing Like A Dream
by Joolz13
Summary: A great man once said 'There is nothing like a dream to create the future'. Things are created everyday but none last forever...
1. Chapter 1

Nothing Like A Dream

'_Citizens, the nineteenth century is great, but the twentieth century will be happy'_

Enjolras looked around at the carnage surrounding him- his Patria lay in tatters at his feet. He raised his head and slowly acknowledged that 8 musket barrels were currently pointed at his chest- beyond them 8 grim faces belonging to battered National Guardsmen. Enjolras let his carbine fall from his hand with a loud clatter which resonated round the remains of the barricade. It landed a few feet from the lifeless body of Grantaire which had been silenced seconds after his asking 'Do you permit it?'

Those men, who he was proud to call his friends, had died believing that they were carving out a new, better life for their families and the populace. Enjolras despite the destruction around him still believed that too. Though he knew he was the only revolutionary left on that grey morning in June, 1832, he still had the passion and hope that maybe one day, like a phoenix, new revolutionaries and a new republic would rise from the ashes and save France. Save his Patria.

Enjolras was giving his life so that a million others could one day live without hunger and pain. He was sacrificing himself so his one true love could have her chance at life. So with death staring him in the face Enjolras did not flinch because as he had told his friends back in their meetings at the Musain, when none of them knew that they would all die in a few weeks, 'the nineteenth century is great, but the twentieth century will be happy'.

As the guardsmen loaded their muskets, Enjolras let a single tear fall down his young face, a tear for those who had died fighting in pursuit of the one true dream and for his parents and sister , unaware that their son and brother was currently living his last moments thinking of them.

Eight flashes suddenly lit the gloom and the stoic leader of Les Amis d'ABC slumped to the ground, taking in his last look at the Café Musain where he and his friends had dreamt of a better future.


	2. Chapter 2

As Enjolras' spirit left him the red flecked paving stones of Paris began to melt away, revealing marble stones in their place. The barricade dissolved into nothing and behind it, instead of smog, brilliant white light filled the sky. The Musain peeled back its soot stained walls to reveal walls of white marble. It was Paris but not as it was when the barricades rose and fell. It was the Paris so many young and old revolutionaries had dreamt of. Clean, beautiful and free.

Enjolras opened his eyes he had not moved but all was white and a strange, comforting light shone around him. His eight bullet wounds were gone and his skin shone golden bronze like Apollo the sun god's. Voices drifted over to him; there was Courfeyrac's infectious laugh, Grantaire's incredulous snort, Jean Prouvaire's beautiful lilt, the sound of Feuilly's fans opening and closing, Combeferre's deep voice, Joly's chastising, Bahorel's giggle and Laigle's chatter. All the sounds he knew and loved. There were also the two voices of a boy and a young woman- familiar but not recognisable to Enjolras. The pair were singing;

'_À la volonté du peuple dont on n'étouffe jamais la voix__  
__Et dont le chant renaît toujours et dont le chant renaît déjà__  
__Nous voulons que la lumière déchire le masque de la nuit__  
__Pour illuminer notre terre et changer la vie__'_

Suddenly Courfeyrac, Grantaire, Combeferre, Joly, Feuilly, Prouvaire, Bahorel, Laigle and thousands of others joined in too;

'_Il viendra le jour glorieux où dans sa marche vers l'idéal__  
__L'homme ira vers le progrès du mal au bien du faux au vrai__  
__Un rêve peut mourir mais on n'enterre jamais l'avenir___

_Joignez-vous à la croisade de ceux qui croient au genre humain__  
__Pour une seule barricade qui tombe cent autres se lèveront demain__  
__À la volonté du peuple un tambour chante dans le lointain__  
__Il vient annoncer le grand jour et c'est pour demain__'_

Enjolras slowly got to his feet and joined the chain the people had made which wound around and over the Seine and its many bridges. He placed himself between the two original singers, the boy, Gavroche and Marius' shadow, Éponine- it was amazing how different they both sounded without the stain of gin and the streets husking their words. Enjolras, copying the rest of the crowd, looked down into the Seine and opened his mouth to join the chorus.

'_Joignez-vous à la croisade de ceux qui croient au genre humain__  
__Pour une seule barricade qui tombe cent autres se lèveront demain__  
__À la volonté du peuple un tambour chante dans le lointain__  
__Il vient annoncer le grand jour et c'est pour demain___

_C'EST POUR DEMAIN!'_

The Seine, for those of you who have never visited Paris, is usually a vile brown colour and smells no better than it looks- in this place the Seine was not a river but a flowing window into the Paris you and I know. At this particular moment, through that window, an old man could be seen his arm linked with that of his wife. He carried a walking stick in one hand and a large red, bullet ridden flag in the other. He and his wife both wore tricolore cockades and huge, beaming smiles. Behind this strange duo marched thousands upon thousands of men, women and children all cheering wildly and shouting VIVE LA FRANCE! VIVE LA REPUBLIQUE! The year was 1848. The monarchy had fallen. The king had fled. The people were free.

Back in that strange, perfect Paris, where the millions who had died fighting for this day now were, tears fell. Strangers hugged. Amid the chaos of happiness Enjolras stood, frozen, unable to comprehend that he had died and awoken to this- for time runs very differently in heaven. He looked around him at all the happy faces, the grime free gamines shouting and whooping, the benevolent bourgeoisie, the students who never passed their degrees, and for the first time since he had begun fighting for Paris… Enjolras smiled.


End file.
